She walked toward the edge, and before Memphis was able to follow, he was swept up with his friends, laughing and dancing once again. Even just one night, all worries were forgotten.
Until it wasn’t.
Emory spotted Nyx in her line of sight, arms crossed and looking predatory.
You did nothing wrong. It was Memphis’s choice.
She wanted to say something to her. Anything that would make it right. She chewed on the inside of her lip, mulling it over and taking the other woman in. Her purple hair was now tied back in a high ponytail, tight black combat gear extenuating her perfect curves. Nyx flashed her a smirk, and Emory’s blood ran cold as Nyx pointedly unsheathed her curved twin blades from her thighs and slowly stalked toward her.
In that instant, the ground started to shake, the lights flickering. Locking eyes with Nyx again, she sneered with such hunger, fear shivered down Emory’s spine.
Emory quickly scanned the crowd, panic settling into her chest. She ran back to Memphis, knowing who the one person she hadn’t seen tonight was. “Bryd is missing.”
Memphis’s face drained of blood. Mouth gaping, he looked and saw Nyx moving toward them. Everyone stared at her. The music cut. And their world exploded into chaos.
The elevator doors burst open and multitudes of black clothed figures stormed into the dining hall, all adorned with red sashes. Screams resonated around them, a sick serenade. Smoke drifted in behind the strangers, their swords glinting. Hands pushed her back, and she stumbled out of the way.
Memphis roared at Nyx, “YOU!” He barreled toward her, dodging as her sword cut at his shoulder.
Nyx panted, “Memphis, I need her!”
His fist connected with her gut with a thud. Nyx collapsed to her knees, and Memphis turned, grabbing Emory’s hand, and together, they sprinted toward the hallway.
Running full tilt, they weaved around their friends, leaving them to fight alone. “It’s Adair’s men... I can’t believe...” Memphis shook his head, not able to finish the sentence. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he digested the betrayal.
Nyx had led Adair right to them.
He flung the door to his room open and ran to the bookcase, pulling a novel down. The bookcase shifted to reveal a staircase spiralling into the darkness.
“You have to get out of here. Find Brokk. Stick to the woods, and don’t let them find you.”
He didn’t allow her time to speak as he pushed her onto the staircase, making her stagger down. He shoved the novel back in place, sealing her in the darkness and sealing both of their fates.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Memphis
The bookcase slid shut, and Emory disappeared.
Adrenaline coursed through him; everything surrounding him moved in slow motion. Nyx had betrayed Black Dawn to Adair. After all these years, Nyx had betrayed him. His friend. His once lover. The truth was black and white before him, but why did everything seem so grey?
As he ran out of his room and down the hallway back to the dining hall, guilt washed over Memphis, thick and suffocating. Maybe if he had been honest with her from the beginning about Emory, she wouldn’t have made such a reckless decision.
Screams rained down, and he took in the scene before him as Memphis watched Adair’s men kill his friends without mercy. Steel flashed as blood spattered on the ground, and Memphis’s breath was knocked from his chest: for a second, he was transported back six years ago, when the Academy fell, and all he could register was the ashes as death rained down.
Snapping out of his panic, he forced himself to move.
“NYX!” he roared, searching for her in the throng of chaos. Luckily, living in a war ridden world, Memphis was a soldier through and through and was always prepared for the worst-case scenario. Underneath his dress clothes, he was armed to the teeth. He loosened twin blades from his forearm, and a ragged breath tore from him.
Rounding the corner, he was quickly cut off. Standing in front of him, Nyx was shaking, covered in blood.
Taking a step toward him, her voice cracked, “Memphis, you have to leave. Now.”
At her words, his vision was tinged red from anger. His body was calculated as he charged at her, his blades swinging. Her violet eyes were pleading as their blades met, sparks flying from the force. They were met face-to-face before Memphis twisted away, not giving her an inch before he attacked again.
“I trusted you.”
Nyx’s face darkened. “And I loved you. But I wasn’t going to let you end us all. The price was Emory. She was supposed to buy our freedom, but Adair lied. This wasn’t our deal. You have to believe me.”
Sweat trickled down her face, pain lacing across her features as Memphis’s blade cut through her arm. Her words were poison to his heart. No matter what Adair promised her, she still made the decision to go through with it.
Memphis gave himself one second to glance behind Nyx as she parried his blows. In the sea of black, Jaxson had multiplied by the hundreds, trying to overthrow the soldiers.
He was the only one left standing that Memphis could see.
“Jaxson!”
His desperate cry was lost in the madness around him. He had to get to him. He had to save him.
Nyx was backing herself into a corner, and Memphis didn’t wait to reach out into her mind. Filling it with screeching white noise, he watched Nyx instantly freeze, her brows furrowing before she caught on to what he was doing. He shoved forward, clenching his teeth. Nyx’s face paled, and she sagged against the wall.
Turning, he ran. Buzzing filled his senses as he cut down the soldiers around him, fighting his way to Jaxson. He was almost there, but from the sideline, a soldier threw a glass bowl into the throng, sickly blue gas swirling in it.
Memphis’s heart dropped into his stomach. The glass bowl quickly smashed, and the gas cascaded out, encircling them. Stumbling he tried to hold his breath. Jaxson locked eyes with him, fear making them shine bright. He slammed back into one person; the gas was stopping the use of their abilities.
Memphis screamed as the soldier behind Jaxson slid his blade into his friend’s heart. Blood pooled, and Jaxson dropped. Soldiers stepped over his friend’s body, surrounding him with soulless eyes.
Still screaming, he lunged toward them, unhinged and feral. A man from behind him grabbed his hair, shoving him onto his knees, where a soldier standing in front of him quickly landed a punch to his cheek. Blood filled his mouth, and Memphis spat it onto the man’s face - he laughed. The soldier put a knife to his throat, the steel cold against his flushed skin.
Voice laced with venom, the soldier said, “You’re lucky Adair wants you and your rebel girlfriend alive. Otherwise, you would be dead for that.”
Before Memphis could retort, the soldier slammed the pommel of his knife into his temple, and sharp pain shot through his head, his world starting to disappear. He greeted the darkness, allowing it to swallow him whole.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Brokk
The first thing he noticed was the smell of fresh mint overwhelming his senses. Groaning, he tried to open his eyes, the dried blood cracking from the effort. By fire and flame, he was groggy. Breathing deeply, Brokk tried to focus on his surroundings. Objects slowly started to come into focus: a small round table, a blue teapot sitting in the middle with steam still curling from its spout. Scattered chairs and books cluttered any other available surface, and a small kitchen was tucked in the corner.
“You sure did take a turn for the worst.”
A small woman materialized in front of him; she looked no more than twenty, her blonde curls cascading down her back. Flinching back, Brokk moved to get up...except his hands were bound. Fighting against the corded restraints, she smirked at his effort.
“You’re not going anywhere until you and I have a little chat.”
Her dark brown eyes shone playfully back at him as she poured herself a cup of tea. Clutching her saucer, she plunked herself across from him. He gave in for the
moment, scowling.
“There, there! Now I get to ask my questions first, seeing as I saved your life and all.”
Saved me?
Memories came back to him.
Nyx and him heading back to the Academy; it had been late in the night. Adair’s men had caught them off guard.
Nyx had greeted them like old friends.
He had been ambushed.
“Trying to piece it together, eh? Your pretty friend left you for dead, she did.”
Numbness spread through his body like ice as he processed what this meant.
“How long have I been here?!” his voice escalated with each word.
“Well, I found you tied to a tree about four days ago, so you count that plus these... About a week then.”
A week.
The Academy would have been blindsided. How would Adair’s men have gotten in though? Nyx could have forced Bryd to expose them, and if she was down, they sat in clear focus for the world.
His thoughts raced with the scenarios, his heart clenching with every thought. He had to get out of here. Flexing his wrists, he fought against the restraints.
“As I said, I would concentrate on answering my questions. You’re not going anywhere fast.”
Twirling her dainty fingers once, the slick cord tightened, cutting off his circulation. Stopping, Brokk eyed her cautiously. Who is she?
“We were heading back to the Academy.”
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly.
“Now, now. We both know that was destroyed many years ago, and I don’t like liars, Brokk, not at all.”
“Is it impossible for you to think you’re the only one who survived? We have built and hid our resistance... That is, until recently.” He gritted his teeth together.
“No. I suppose not, but I am curious how you managed it.” She leaned forward eagerly.
“How do you survive?” he countered.
She slurped her tea loudly and smacked her lips obnoxiously while in thought. Grinning, she replied, “By the art of illusion.”
“Well then, you just answered your own question.”
“How many?”
“We had sixty.”
She deflated. “Your friend went to Adair.”
He didn’t answer, didn’t need to.
Pinching her eyebrows together, she suddenly jumped up running to the next room. Minutes passed as scuffling and muttering came from around the corner.
“Ah-ha!” Running back, she smacked a torn weathered book in front of him.
“Now I have a story for you. You see, I obviously didn’t find you by chance. I followed you. I have been following you.”
His skin crawled. “Who are you?”
“Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Peyton. You see, I have been around for a long time. I have seen and heard many things, and you, my dear, are the greatest mystery I have ever known.”
She waved her hand slowly in front of her, and her skin started melting off. Brokk jumped in surprise. For a split second, a white-haired lady sat in front of him, clear brown eyes twinkling back at him. She waved her hand back and her earlier form returned.
“You bring out the young part in me again, dear. It’s quite refreshing.”
“So you’re...”
“A witch, yes, and unfortunately, the last of my line. I am a hundred and twenty years old and have the gift of taking whichever form I choose—whether it be human or not. You see, I had a dear friend once who could relate to me. Her name was Morgan, and she was a shapeshifter. She had a hard time controlling her ability. As you know, it is quite easy to lose yourself a little bit in the beast.”
She sighed. “Anyway, Morgan and I grew up together, living in the same small village of Ferry, which is across the borders from here. The years passed, as they always do, too quickly. Morgan was hearing whispers of a government being built to help anyone with special...gifts.”
She flipped the book open, and Brokk’s gaze fell upon a tattered picture of a woman leaning against a tree trunk, her dark auburn hair falling around her shoulders, her golden eyes shining sullenly.
“She had an opportunity to have a better life, one that would understand her gift, not try to hide it. She left.”
Brokk’s entire body went cold.
“Months passed without a word, and then one day, I was sent this.”
She flipped the creaking pages, and small particles of dust floated up. Brokk leaned in, breathing in the musty scent. Another tattered picture lay in the middle of the page, Morgan laughing with a man with ebony hair and dancing green eyes.
He froze.
“This was the last I heard from your mother. She was swept up in a world that was segregated from the rest of us. Only the best, only the strongest. It’s bullocks really. Look at us now.” Peyton shook her head and, with a dazed expression, looked out the window, lost in thought.
“What are you trying to say, Peyton?” His voice was just above a whisper, and a small tremble vibrated through his body. He was scared for the answer.
“Morgan found love and look how that served her! To love Roque, who was already promised to Nei. She was happy. And you see, I couldn’t have that, oh no. We had a promise, we did. So, I found her, watched her. Until the time was right.”
She wrung her hands together in agitation as she paced back and forth, looking deranged.
“It was a year. I stayed in the woods and watched. You see, I had acquired something, something of upmost importance, which would change everything. Your mother was supposed to have it...not him...not him.” She shook. “It was a snowy evening, and Morgan had caught on that I was there. She met with me. How much people can change in a couple of years, I tell you. She promised me what they were starting was for the good of Kiero, but what she didn’t see was that she was already being blinded by lies.”
A pause, then, “There had been whispers of a prophecy. About two children born from royalty. We had set out to stop this from ever happening. But what I didn’t realize was that I had already failed. When Morgan showed up that night, with a bundle in her arms, which was a small child, I knew, yes, I knew I had to take matters in my own hands.”
A cold sweat dripped down the base of Brokk’s neck, but he was entranced.
“I drove my knife deep into her heart, and as the life drained out of her, it was my mistake I didn’t realize I was being watched. Roque stepped out of the shadows, all pride and arrogance. Hatred fueled his movements, and he charged me and took from me the only thing I care about. He took the book, and he took you and hid you until it was time. No one knew, no one.” Peyton ended with a whisper, sweat dripping off the end of her nose, her form flickering quickly from young too old.
Three thoughts surged to Brokk in that moment.
He was Roque’s son.
Emory’s half-brother.
He was in the most danger he had ever been in his life.
A growl ripped from his throat, and he didn’t think as he changed. The binds that held him to the chair transformed in a second, erupting into slithering snakes made of writhing flames. Their beady eyes were an endless black as they circled his paws, hissing and cackling. Peyton hovered above the ground—her true form in plain sight: yellow papery skin, frizzled white hair flying every which way, eyes filled with hate. Looking down, both snakes coiled and sprung toward his legs in a flurry.
He tried to run, crashing into the chairs and table. If he could just make it to the door... Their teeth sunk deep in his skin simultaneously. A quick icy burning filled his veins, and he dropped to the floor, blood dripping from his human hand as he shifted back. His throat felt thick.
Peyton cackled above him, and Brokk tried to focus, but his world was spinning on its axis.
“You think I would let you slip through my hands again? Oh-ho! I have waited too long for this. Roque hid you for your life, but I needed to see what you would become. Haven’t you ever wanted to know more? Haven’t you wondered why you are so different?”
/> Yes.
The thought rang through his mind so clearly it reverberated in his heart, in his body. The room tilted upside down, and Brokk felt himself slipping away. He tried to hold on, a low moan escaping from him, and he was taken away with the venom into a world constructed of poison.
***
The steady rhythm of dripping water woke him. The room was dark, strange, and dampness clung to his skin, the smell of moss in the air. He blinked hard, trying to get a better focus. A small candle sat in the far-left corner with a long wooden table in front of it. Brokk, then, brought his attention to a small circle of eight jagged rocks in the middle of the room. Perfectly placed, they shone with a metallic green finish, glowing ominously in the darkness.
What was this place?
Looking up, a low cement ceiling met his gaze, and groggily, he tried to focus. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and by the feel of his right eye, it was tightly swollen shut. His breath was labored, and since his body felt as if it had been chewed through a mill, he guessed he had been there a while. His hands were tightly bound behind his back, and he rested his head against the cold wall when he registered what had happened.
So many questions screamed through his mind. He was Roque’s son. Why had he never told him? And Emory...she was his half sister. Disbelief made his thoughts fuzzy as he tried to process the information.
“He’s awake.” A high-pitched voice echoed in the small room, snapping him back to reality.
“Who’s there?” Brokk asked.
A giggle was the only response.
Fear paralyzed him, goosebumps erupting over his skin. Her laugh was an uncanny match to his dream. Peyton suddenly materialized in front of him, making him slam back into the wall.
She cackled. “Hello, dear. I was wondering when you would come around. Our tactics last time must have drained you.” She smiled back at him, ruthlessly, not waiting for a reply.
“I will let you in on a little secret. I can imagine you must have so many questions. But unfortunately, those will have to wait. You see, I do think it’s a little unfair that the most powerful person in Kiero only uses his abilities to save one girl. What you did, it changed everything.”
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 37
